


Drew You A Heart

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Future Fic, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, M/M, Sub Derek Hale, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You’re going to tell me where your limits are.”  It’s not a question, because Derek knows Stiles won’t do this with him if Derek doesn’t agree.  And it’s okay because he wants to agree, wants to do this the way he knows it should be done.  Wants to do this with Stiles.</i>
</p><p>In which Derek asks for what he wants from Stiles.</p><p>A fill for <a href="http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">Trope Bingo</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drew You A Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Marilyn Manson - (s)AINT.
> 
> Trope: power dynamics.
> 
> If you're worried about anything triggery possibly contained within this fic, please see end notes before reading.

The first time Stiles asks him “what are your limits?”, Derek doesn’t know how to answer. He’s not new to this, but he’s never done it _right_ before, never done it with someone he trusts. And he knows how that sounds, knows that he should’ve had a level of trust with the people he scened with, but he couldn’t do that before. Couldn’t let anyone in enough to trust them, had no real idea of what he was looking for anyway. Derek always believed he didn’t need trust, he had his physical strength. He let them handcuff him, let them hold him down, always safe in the knowledge that he would be able to break out if he needed to.

He never did.

So when Stiles asks him what his limits are, he shrugs and looks away. Says, “I don’t really have any.”

Stiles sighs and strokes his fingers across Derek’s neck. Tells him that they’re not going to do this until Derek talks. Derek doesn’t even know if he can talk about it.

*

It was after Kate, the first time. He and Laura were in Seattle; she had a night job and Derek had nothing—he needed something to get rid of the itch under his skin. Needed something to get the echoes of his family screaming out of his mind. He found a club, his leather jacket and the stubble on his face making sure he wasn’t carded, and slunk around in the crowd until he spotted the group he was looking for. They were older, an edge of danger about them that wasn’t faked and Derek wanted that, needed that.

A few drinks and a certain attitude was all it took to get one of the men interested. They didn’t go back to his apartment, instead heading for a back room at the club. It wasn’t nice, wasn’t anything that Derek associated with her; it was pain and hurt and it _worked_ for him.

It shut his mind off.

Derek hadn’t realised that wasn’t the way he should be doing it.

*

There’s a dip in the bed when Stiles lies down next to him, Derek ducking his head as Stiles touches him, soft fingers running over his shoulders.

“Did you,” Stiles clears his throat. “Was it sexual?”

Derek shakes his head. “We had sex, but it wasn’t—that wasn’t what I wanted from it. He got off on it, afterwards.” He pauses before saying, “I didn’t. It wasn’t what I wanted then.”

“Okay.”

*

Derek hadn’t seen the man in Seattle again. When Laura got wind of hunters, they ran again; hard and fast until they ended up in New York with Laura hoping that the lack of packs in the New York metropolitan area meaning that they could hide. Which they did, mostly. When they’d settled as much as they were ever going to, Derek went out looking again.

The first place he found didn’t work for him. Everyone was too _safe_ , talking about aftercare and limits and that wasn’t what wanted. He asked around, the bartenders and the bouncers, and they directed him to someone. A woman. Derek didn’t want a woman, wasn’t comfortable with it. But. He let her anyway.

She wasn’t blonde. He told himself it was okay.

It wasn’t.

Derek walked home shaking. Had to stop several times, the city buzzing around him as he felt the welts and bruises heal on his body.

Her number burned a hole in his pocket.

*

Derek leans back against Stiles’ chest, Stiles’ arms wrapping around him, mouth brushing against the back of Derek’s neck. “You’re safe here,” he says quietly. “You’re okay.”

*

When Derek called her, he asked if she knew a man who would work with him. She’d laughed first and then promised to introduce him to someone.

She kept her promise and Derek kept falling.

*

“I love you,” Stiles says in his ear. “I love you.”

*

It only took three sessions for it to turn sexual with Luke. Derek had never thought of what he did as sexual. For him, anyway. His partners had got off on it, jerking off over him after a scene and letting their spunk pool on his body, but he never had. Not until Luke had him bound by his arms and legs, dragging a pinwheel along the back of his thighs and Derek had found himself blindingly hard. Luke had noticed, hadn’t asked if Derek was okay with it—had just grasped Derek’s cock almost painfully and jerked him harshly until he came.

*

Stiles is tracing his left hand through Derek’s hair, their right hands entwined, and Derek lets himself be comforted by Stiles’ chest rising and falling against his back.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand.

*

It changed with Luke after that session. Derek didn’t trust him, but he needed him. Needed him to help him get out of his head. He kept seeing glimpses of his family on the streets. Knew that wasn’t possible, but New York was so big, and there were so many people that he would see a face with a familiar smile and they’d vanish before he could tell himself it wasn’t them. Couldn’t be them.

Derek lost track of how many times he bled in Luke’s apartment. It didn’t take much to persuade Luke to use sharp knives. To get him to fuck Derek while he was still bleeding.

Once Luke held a knife to Derek’s throat and refused to let him come. Put a cock ring on him and got him worked up while he cut small nicks into Derek’s flesh. He cut a short line in Derek’s throat and came over his chest, blood mixing with the come, a rancid scent that flooded Derek’s senses.

Derek left five minutes later, blood and come drying on his skin, claws digging into his palm as he walked home.

*

Stiles kisses behind Derek’s ear. Wipes a hand across Derek’s cheeks, smearing the tears silently falling down Derek’s face.

*

The last time Derek saw Luke was after Laura left. He let Luke choke him until he passed out.

Derek still doesn’t know what Luke did to him while he was out. He didn’t come round quick enough.

*

“Okay,” Stiles says, running his hands down Derek’s chest. “Okay. Do you need a break?”

“No.”

*

Derek didn’t do anything in Beacon Hills. Not for a long while. When he moved closer into the town, he went looking again. Didn’t push it as far as he had in New York. Still needed the blankness at times to get through the days and nights. To cope with everything that was happening.

*

“When did you stop?”

“When you came back. That summer.”

Stiles holds him tighter and sighs. “Okay.”

*

The thing with Stiles didn’t start until the summer after Stiles’ junior year at college. He’d come back different, but the same. Standing in Derek’s backyard smoking, his fingers waving the cigarette around as he spoke, smoke spinning in the air. Laughing at something Scott said, his face open, tanned and—Derek _wanted_ in a way that he hadn’t before.

He’d caught Stiles by the wrist when he was about to leave. “Come to dinner with me,” he’d said, heart pounding when Stiles smiled and nodded at him. Kissed his cheek and ran off towards that damn Jeep.

*

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” Stiles asks, hands still tracing small patterns along Derek’s skin.

“I didn’t want it to be like before. I wanted—I trust you.” Derek tips his head back against Stiles’ shoulder to look up at him. “It needs to be different.”

“It will be,” Stiles says, his eyes open and caring. “I swear. I’ll take care of you.”

*

The first time he and Stiles fucked, Stiles had covered his body with his own, placing feather light kisses across his skin as he pushed into Derek. It had been close, intimate, and nothing Derek had ever experienced before.

Derek doesn’t know when Stiles started to notice his responses to being held down, to Stiles’ nails digging into his skin, but he wouldn’t bet against it being quickly.

Stiles had his mouth wrapped around Derek’s cock when he’d suddenly pulled off and told Derek to stay still. Derek did it so well, he didn’t even twitch when he came down Stiles’ throat. It wasn’t until Stiles bit down on Derek’s shoulder, drawing blood, making Derek come with a surprised yelp, that they started to talk.

*

Stiles strokes a hand along Derek’s shoulders, absentmindedly pressing down against the fading bite mark. “I want to take care of you. The way you were, that’s not—I’ve done this and fuck, Derek the way you were treated by those others. It wasn’t _right_. You know that?”

“I know.”

“You trust me?”

“I do.”

“You’re going to tell me where your limits are.” It’s not a question, because Derek knows Stiles won’t do this with him if Derek doesn’t agree. And it’s okay because he wants to agree, wants to do this the way he knows it should be done. Wants to do this with _Stiles_.

Stiles’ hands have settled over his heart and Derek is completely overwhelmed with how much he loves him. “The licking that you don’t do?” he says quietly.

“Your stomach.”

“I don’t like—I like knife play but not—”

“On your stomach. Okay.” Stiles hands are a balm on his skin, soft fingers rubbing against his chest in soothing circles. “How much knife play?”

“Enough to draw blood. I don’t like blood play, but I like the feel of being scratched and cut. It heals quickly, so I like it to be repeated.”

“I can work with that.” Stiles presses a kiss against Derek’s hair. “Pinwheels?”

“Yeah. I like those. I like—” Derek breaks off and ducks his head a little.

“Hey,” Stiles says, one hand coming up to brush through Derek’s hair. “No shame here. You know that. I love you.” He curls his arm around Derek’s chest. “If you need a break—”

“No.” Derek runs his hand over Stiles’ arm, linking their fingers together. “No, I can—I like being tied up, spread eagle.” He’s keeping his voice steady, hand unconsciously squeezing Stiles’ as he talks. “No blindfolds, I like watching—”

“That’s a surprise,” Stiles says lightly, making Derek laugh. He tightens his arm around Derek’s chest and kisses his temple. “You like watching someone take you apart?” he asks, making a thoughtful noise when Derek nods. “Like it when you’re at someone’s mercy? When you can give yourself over to someone?”

“You.”

“What?”

“Give myself over to you. Not someone. Just you.”

Stiles’ fingers dig into Derek’s side as he leans forward, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “Yeah, just me.”

*

Derek’s naked, his body spread eagled across the bed, wrists and ankles fastened to the bed frame with thick rope. It’s secure, and he sinks into the mattress, limbs straining with the stretch, black sheets rubbing against his skin as he looks up at Stiles.

“Tell me?” Stiles asks, running a hand up Derek’s shin.

“Green,” Derek says quietly.

“Good. Stay still.”

Stiles leans over him, hands braced on Derek’s thighs as he ducks his head. He’s fully clothed, his soft henley brushing against Derek’s skin as they kiss. Pressing his hands against Derek’s shoulders, Stiles sits up and climbs off him. There’s a new 5 wheel pinwheel on the bedside table and Derek eyes it from his position on the bed, just the thought of the sharp spikes on his skin making his cock swell.

“You want this?” Stiles says as he picks it up, a smirk playing across his lips. “You want me to run this down your leg? Up your sides?”

Derek swallows a groan when the metal hits his skin, the pinpricks digging into his flesh as Stiles exerts just the right amount of pressure to make blood seep out a little before it heals.

“Like that?”

“Yes.”

Stiles ghosts a hand across Derek’s cock, pressing the pinwheel into the flesh on his other thigh and trailing it down his leg. “You’re doing so well, Derek. You look incredible like this, spread out only for me.” Derek feels Stiles’ lips brush against his skin above the rope and he lets out a whimper at the delicate touch. “Want to move on? Tell me.”

“Green,” Derek says in a hoarse voice, swallowing hard when Stiles puts the pinwheel down, his hand hovering above the sharp knives they bought last week.

The handles are simple, black, and the blade glints in the light when Stiles picks it up. There’s no uncertainty in the way Stiles handles the blade, and it makes Derek wonder how far Stiles has gone before with other people. His body trembles as Stiles gets closer, crawling onto the bed and kneeling by Derek’s torso. Stiles presses the blade below Derek’s collarbone and Derek _keens_ at the cool steel cutting into his skin.

“Talk,” commands Stiles.

“Green, fuck—Stiles, _please_.” He’s achingly hard, cock curving up against his stomach, head thrown back against the pillow. Stiles keeps slicing into him, blood barely a trickle before the cut heals; Stiles’ eyes track the mess he’s making, the blood drying against Derek’s skin, sticky and dark. Derek’s eyes flutter shut when Stiles traces the knife lightly along the inside of his thighs, the muscles in his stomach twitching as pre-come leaks every-fucking-where.

“You want me to let you come?” Stiles is teasing him, Derek knows it, loves it, flexes his fingers around the bed frame as the knife slices into his leg. “No,” Stiles says, his hand warm against Derek’s leg. “No, not yet.” He ducks down, brushes his mouth along the length of Derek’s cock, tongue barely touching the hot skin. “I think you can take more.” Stiles drags the tip of the knife over Derek’s hip. “Red, yellow, green?”

“Green,” Derek whines. “Green.”

Stiles leans back, one hand still resting on Derek’s leg, stroking softly. “So beautiful, Derek. So fucking beautiful.” After checking the restraints, Stiles puts the knife back and picks up a smaller blade. He starts with little, consistent nicks along Derek’s arms, never slowing down as he works his way along Derek’s flesh and Derek—he has Stiles’ scent in his nose, the quiet, excited noises Stiles makes as Derek holds still and he’s so, so close to coming.

“Stiles, I can’t—”

“You can. You’re amazing, Derek, so good.” Stiles runs a hand over Derek’s hair, pulling slightly. “So, so good.”

Derek nods, meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Green,” he whispers as Stiles climbs onto the bed, stretching his body over Derek, using the blade to slice small marks into his chest, smearing the blood as he goes. It’s all over his hands, Derek can smell it, and his cock twitches in the air, needing to be touched.

“Do you deserve to come, Derek?” Stiles kneels by Derek’s hips, leaning over his body, craning his neck to kiss Derek’s jaw. “You’ve been so good for me.” Derek watches him move down the bed and can’t help the guttural groan that escapes his mouth when Stiles touches his cock. “Yeah. That’s it.” The cold steel of the small blade is pressed up against his hip, sharp edges digging into his flesh; the stinging sensation a breathtaking contrast with Stiles’ warm, delicate hand around his cock. All it takes is Stiles quietly saying, “Come for me, Derek,” for Derek to come with a roar, his mind blanking out, limbs weightless. Derek’s dimly aware of Stiles pushing his sweatpants down, his ragged breathing as he jerks off over Derek.

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to come, groaning as his spunk hits Derek’s body. He pulls up his sweatpants and drops the knife back on the bedside table. “You did so well,” Stiles says, touching Derek’s face. “So well. I’m going to untie you now, okay?” Derek manages to nod, the light brushes of Stiles’ fingers against his skin as he unties the rope sending shivers down his body. Stiles moves Derek’s arms until they’re back by his side, untying his ankles and encouraging Derek to bend his knees. “I got you,” he says, lying on the bed next to Derek. “What do you need?”

“Touch me.”

“I can do that,” Stiles says in a quiet tone. “Do you want me to wash my hands first?” Derek shakes his head, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides and then Stiles is _there_ , right next to him, fingers running along his skin. Derek curls towards Stiles, body going boneless when Stiles reaches over and rubs a hand through his hair. He loses track of time, only Stiles’ voice and steady touch keeping him grounded. Slowly, Derek starts to come back, becoming aware of the sheets beneath him, the cars driving down the street, how Stiles is cradling his head in his lap. Blinking, Derek stares up at him, a slow, easy smile on his face.

“You back?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi.” Stiles traces his index finger along Derek’s brow, his mouth open and relaxed as he meets Derek’s eyes. “You want a shower?”

Derek nods, reaching a hand up to the back of Stiles’ neck, pulling him down until they’re kissing, the taste of Stiles flooding Derek’s senses. He lets Stiles pull away, linking their hands together as Stiles leads him towards the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, Derek watches Stiles switch on the shower before stripping out of his clothes, revealing pale skin marred by fading bruises and old scars. Before Derek realises it, a needy noise has slipped out of his mouth and Stiles is by his side, hands on Derek’s waist, pressing their skin together.

“I got you,” Stiles says, his mouth against Derek’s cheek. “I got you.” His hands grip Derek’s waist firmly, chests rising and falling as they stand there, Derek breathing in Stiles’ scent. Derek clings to Stiles, his fingers digging into Stiles’ back, blood flaking off his body as Stiles holds him. Breathing in and out slowly, Derek concentrates on the feeling of Stiles’ skin, solid flesh beneath his hands. “Okay? Derek, talk to me. Please.”

“Sorry. I don’t—” Derek noses at Stiles’ neck, his lips fluttering against the skin. “I’m okay.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m here. You ready to shower?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles takes a step away, slipping his hand into Derek’s and leading him towards the shower. Stepping under the stream of water, Derek lowers his head, letting the water run down his body. Stiles gets in behind him, grabbing the shower gel and squirting it into his hand. His hands rub against Derek’s skin, over his shoulders, firm pressure as he gets Derek to turn around. Brushing his lips against Derek’s, Stiles washes the dried blood off Derek’s skin, the water pooling at their feet turning a pale pink as he works his way down. Stiles sinks to his knees to clean Derek’s legs, and all Derek can see is the top of Stiles’ head, wet hair plastered against his scalp, the nape of his neck exposed as the water pounds down on them.

“There,” Stiles says as he stands up, face close to Derek’s. “All clean.” He slides his hands down Derek’s arms, rinsing the last of the foam off. “C’mon.” Stiles wraps a hand around Derek’s wrist and tugs lightly. “Let’s get out.” Derek follows him willingly, smiling fondly when Stiles hands him a fluffy white towel after wrapping one around his own waist. “You okay in here while I strip the bed?”

“I’m good, Stiles. Promise.”

Stiles gives him a peck on the lips before smiling, squeezing Derek’s shoulder and walking back into the bedroom. As Derek towels off, he can hear the rustling of the sheets as Stiles moves around, swearing under his breath as he wrestles with the fitted sheet. Derek laughs when he hears Stiles trip over something. “You okay?” he calls out, biting back a grin.

“Yeah, yep, fine. Just that the pillows are trying to _kill_ me.”

There’s a metallic clink echoing as Stiles puts the knives and pinwheel into a bag to clean later. Derek finishes drying himself off and leans against the wall, towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

“Okay, I’m done,” Stiles says. Derek walks out into the bedroom to see Stiles sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in sweatpants and one of Derek’s t shirts. “Hi.” The corner of Stiles’ mouth curves upwards as Derek looks at him. “There’s clothes on the chair for you.”

Derek drops the towel and pulls on the clothes Stiles picked out, making a small noise when the softness of his most worn sweatpants hits his skin. “Thanks,” he says as he pulls on a tank, sitting next to Stiles on the bed, tangling their fingers together and leaning against him. “Thank you.”

“I love you, you know that right?” Stiles says after a moment. “I love you so much that sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself. You don’t ever have to be afraid to ask me for something. Derek—” Stiles breaks off, turns on the bed, tipping Derek’s chin up with one finger to lock eyes with him. “I wanted this as much as you did. Being the one to take you apart was... beyond anything I could’ve imagined. You don’t have to thank me. I should be thanking you for giving me that.”

Derek slowly smiles, leaning forward and brushing their lips together softly until Stiles lets out a broken moan and closes the tiny gap, his hand cupping Derek’s face as they kiss. Stiles’ fingers are soft against his stubble and Derek can’t help but deepen the kiss, pulling Stiles onto his lap, hands settling underneath the fabric of Stiles’ t shirt, stroking the heated skin he knows he’s addicted to.

When they finally pull away from each other, Stiles’ cheeks are flushed, his pupils dilated, and Derek rubs his thumb against Stiles’ swollen lower lip, smirking when Stiles darts his tongue out to lick at it. “I love you,” Derek says quietly, taking his hand away and wrapping both his arms around Stiles. “You have no idea how much.”

Stiles shakes his head, kissing Derek’s forehead, hands stroking along his shoulders. “Got a pretty good idea, Derek. Got a pretty good idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic contains: Derek talking about past scenes which are unhealthy and in no way SSC. He talks through his past with Stiles, talks about his limits and he and Stiles have a SSC scene involving knifeplay, trust, safewords and aftercare. Do let me know if there is anything else you think should be warned for.
> 
> [tumblr](http://likeairplanelights.tumblr.com/), if you like.


End file.
